Love and loss with flowers

Mother's Day feels like so long ago now - but it was only a few months ago. 

The alternative flowers workshop went well. I had rosemary and forget-me-nots for remembrance, mint for warmth of feeling and protection, ranunculus which says "You are radiant with charms" according to the Victorians. And French lavender, just because it smells beautiful.

There were people who'd lost their mother and people who'd lost their child, but everyone connected and shared their stories. I went down to get more tea after we'd been chatting for an hour and before we started the floristry, but when I came back up, everyone had got stuck in and started making posies. There was flower-swapping and jar-swapping, and beautiful, scented posies were made for keeping and others were made to lay in memory. It was heartbreakingly sad at times, but it was also wonderful. The talking, the connecting, the kindness, and the grounding qualities of flowers - all of these things did their bit.

If you would like support with the loss of a child, Child Bereavement UK have resources here.

For other bereavements, you can contact Cruse here.

If you find Mother's Day difficult: alternative workshop on 25 March

When I did my floristry diploma, we were taught about the importance of certain dates in the calendar - the most significant being Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, Easter, and Christmas. For another module, we were taught how to sensitively take an order for funeral flowers. We didn't really put them together, and it's only because of personal losses in the last few years (my own and my friends') and my work as a bereavement counsellor that I've seen how the two are connected.

I have mixed feelings about Valentine's Day, and I still wish it was used as a day to celebrate all kinds of love rather than solely a day for couples to remind themselves that they're a couple.

I've seen how Mother's Day can be upsetting for people - whose mothers or children have died, or whose mothers or children are ill or disabled, or who are estranged from some of their family. It could be that someone has a difficult relationship with their mother or child for all kinds of reasons. It could be that a woman wants to have children but can't. It could be that a woman chooses not to have children but gets messages that she's less of a woman for it. Last year, Jennifer Aniston wrote about the scrutiny she comes under for her maternal status, amongst other things.

It's easy to suggest that someone just ignores Mothering Sunday and the messages that are implied with it, but unless you're a hermit, it's near-impossible to ignore Mother's Day in Britain. Adverts and articles will pop up on television, newspapers and websites, the shops (that includes florists - sorry) will do their damnedest to make you remember, and even if you want to just go out for the day, there might be themed lunches and afternoon teas in cafes and restaurants.

So, with some encouragement from other therapists and flowery friends (waves to Sara at My Flower Patch who is running a Spring Workshop in Wiltshire and donates to local charity The Finlay Foundation), I am running an alternative workshop the day before Mother's Day.

• In this workshop, we'll get to talk to each other about what makes Mother's Day difficult.
• We'll do some mindful exercises with flowers.
• Then we'll make a scented posy that people can keep for themselves, give as a gift, or leave as a memorial.

The workshop will be held at Neal's Yard Remedies in Sevenoaks on Saturday 25 March from 1.15-3pm. You can book your place by visiting the shop at 134 Sevenoaks High Street or phoning the shop on 01732 456402.

The cost is £30 and this includes the workshop, a posy to take away, and a £5 donation to the charity Child Bereavement UK.

This year, Child Bereavement UK has launched a campaign called Make for Mum to encourage bereaved people to remember their mothers or mothers to remember their children. The charity supports children and parents who are bereaved or facing bereavement through their national helpline; one-to-one, couple, family and group support; and training for professionals and schools.

Mother's Day 2016: Pretty in pink

A couple of almost wordless posts, since it's Wednesday. The rose is called Sudoku.

I feel a song coming on

I've seen Madame Butterfly, but not the musical based on it, Miss Saigon. I was hoping these hyacinths would be ready for Mother's Day for the many women who love the musical!

And Pink Elephant reminds me of a Madonna song that came out when I was at school, with the line "Pink elephants and lemonade". The flowers that have opened smell amazing.

Gyspy Queen just looked like a nice salmon-orange colour when I was browsing Peter Nyssen's webshop...hopefully it will be when it flowers.

And my muscari, aka grape hyacinths, are showing promise too.

Whistlestop Mother's Day flowers

It's been a busy week, and I haven't taken many photos, except when I got to relax for half an hour yesterday evening in the museum! Here are a few photos that I did take. Happy Mother's Day, and I hope you reached out if today was difficult for you.

Leftovers for me!

I have to say a quick thank you to the amazing team at C. J. Love, who work crazy hours and were still chirpy and helpful the morning before Mother's Day, helping me to find alternatives to the sold-out daisies I had planned to use. Thank you so much!

Mothering Sunday in the Garden Museum

I made some posies yesterday for the Garden Museum's Mother's Day treat - a personal Q&A with Matthew Biggs (of Gardener's Question Time), cream tea in the lovely cafe, and a bunch of flowers and a planted gift to take home.

The beautiful cutting garden is choc-a-block with different narcissi, hellebores, and the promise of tulips.

I think this daffodil is called Pink Pride - what a wonderful name! (And on a side note, I was delighted to see Paul Harfleet interviewed in the Guardian yesterday. His Pansy Project is one of the loveliest and most peaceful acts of defiance I've heard of.)

I filled buckets full of spring flowers, mixing tulips. and sweet-smelling hyacinths and genista (broom) with the daffodils.

Once I'd finished making the bunches, I went to see Liz, one of the museum's talented and dedicated gardeners.

She had finished planting up gifts for mothers/children to take - florists' favourite Narcissus 'Erlicheer' along with violets and something else...ivy, maybe?

She was writing labels for the gifts when I came over. I admired her shiny new hand trowel!

I took some pictures of the knot garden and the spring bulbs that have flowered or are on their way.

There are primroses too - the perfect flower for Mother's Day because they symbolise childhood!

Absent loved ones

I potted up some of my zinnia seedlings for someone who finds Mother's Day difficult. It is a tough day if a mother or a child has passed away or is out of touch. Zinnia means "I mourn your absence", and the bright flowers in summer are a reminder of absent loved ones.

There is support from Child Bereavement UK if this has been a difficult time for you.

Your Ma's a born lady

I had specific plans about which British flowers I would use for Mothering Sunday, but unfortunately, the local wholesaler had sold out of them at the start of this week (I guess it's a good sign - lots of people wanted to buy local!). The spring flowers I've grown haven't been prolific or tall enough to use in bouquets. So I had to come up with another plan.

My colour scheme was yellow, white, and pink or blue. I bought pink and blue campanulas, although the blue looked lilac. I chose acid-green bupleurum (which has all the zesty brightness of green euphorbia, but without the skin-irritating sap), and white lilacs for their lovely scent and their spring blooms. I also got yellow Guernsey freesias and French mimosa, which both have a sweet scent. There was lots of British foliage - variegated pittosporum, eucalyptus, magnolia, and philadelphus (mock orange blossom).

I used either pink or blue campanulas for each bouquet - most people didn't express any preference for one colour or the other. Known also as Canterbury bells, there is a wonderful entry on them in Anna Trenter's book, The Lore and Language of Flowers:

Canterbury bells “grew in great abundance in oak woods, and carpeted the Kentish countryside around Canterbury, hence its name. It was sacred to St Augustine who began the conversion of English to Christianity in the sixth century and was given the see of Canterbury by the newly converted King Ethelbert of Kent.”  Flower Fairies: The Lore and Language of Flowers by Anna Trenter.

Lilac represents the first emotions of love, and white lilac in particular symbolises youthful innocence, which is a lovely image of childhood. Freesias mean lasting friendship and sometimes when children grow up, that is what develops between parents and their children. Mimosa means sensitivity, bupleurum represents esteem, magnolia stands for memory, and the 'positive' meaning of mock orange is also memory.

People seemed to be going all-out this year - there were several orders for big bouquets, but not many for posies! The posies used more British flowers - forget-me-nots, narcissi, hellebores and pink bluebells. Forget-me-nots represent lasting love and, of course, a request not to be forgotten, narcissi have several meanings, including new beginnings and chivalry, hellebores mean wit and "relieve my anxiety", while bluebells symbolise constancy.

I'll finish with a few lines from The Railway Children, which is one of my favourite books about childhood. The author, Edith Nesbit, lived in Grove Park for a time. The book is set in beautiful countryside - I visited the Yorkshire locations of the 1970 film a few years ago. This is the walk up to Three Chimneys.

The children adore their kind mother who has to take them out of their home and into a strange new town, without their father. Flowers play a big part in the children's lives. Lilac, Canterbury bells, roses, wallflowers and blossom all get mentions, and the eldest daughter, Bobbie's birthday is celebrated with a floral crown and table decorations made of forget-me-nots.

This is when the children have presented the train station porter with gifts for his birthday, which they secretly collected from people in the town:

'"Little Clothes for Mrs Perks's children." Mother said, "I'll find some of Phyllis's things that she's grown out of if you're quite sure Mr Perks wouldn't be offended and think it's meant for charity. I'd like to do some little thing for him, because he's so kind to you. I can't do much because we're poor ourselves."'

Bobbie paused.

'That's all right,' said Perks, 'your Ma's a born lady. We'll keep the little frocks, and what-not, Nell.'